


An Extra Pair of Shoes

by loosescrew



Category: The Breakfast Club (1985)
Genre: F/M, Friendship/Love, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 20:34:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11260485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loosescrew/pseuds/loosescrew
Summary: She bit her quivering lip. Of course, of course her heel would break right in front of the whole school!





	An Extra Pair of Shoes

**Author's Note:**

> Rewritten and updated as of 2/21/18.
> 
> I still love the idea I had behind this one shot but, wow, this was such a hot mess before. I’m so sorry I ever posted it and delayed a rewrite.

She heard the light croak of the door.

"Honey?" George said lowly the way he always did at six fifteen in the morning. "It's time to get up."

Claire opened her eyes, but the sunlight coming from her window was just too bright and she ended up squeezing them back shut. The comforter was too warm and the mattress was too black cloak of sleep overtook her not long after. She wanted to stay here.

"Claire?" She jumped at the calloused hand on her shoulder gently shaking her. Her father offered an apologetic smile. "Did you stay up talking to Jennifer again?"

Claire rubbed her eyes, sitting upright against the headboard. "No, not this time."

"Rough night?"

"Kind of," She yawned. "Mother's gone again?"

"Always needs to be the first one to leave and the last to arrive." He replied with a hint of disdain. "She might not be back until Sunday. Who knows."

Claire pursed her lips, deciding to leave the topic of mom alone.

"Hey, daddy? Do you mind if I stay home? Please?"

"Sorry—" He brushed off her puppy eyes with a shake of his head and small smile. "—but after your little shopping trip last week—which, your mother is still _very_ angry about—I don't think it's a good idea."

"But it's _Monday_." She argued.

"And so it is. It's the worst day of the week but also the start of a new one."

Claire rolled her eyes, throwing the comforter to the side. He won this time.

"I'll be ready in ten."

He got off the bed as she marched to her bathroom.

Claire breezed through her routine. She decided to replicate her makeup from Saturday but keep her hair untidy. She'd always liked her slight curls and hated having to brush it out. Perfection took too much time.

She put together a mismatched outfit that would probably make Allison crack a smile. She could get away with it since floral leggings were still in.

She knew her friends, especially Jennifer, wouldn't be happy. And if her mother found out, she'd have a fit that'd rival a five year old's. It was an unspoken rule amongst the higher class that they always had to look their best—off days were no exception.

In the garage, George was waiting for her in the driver's seat of his BMW.

"Do you want to drive to school?" He asked when she opened the door.

She sat down, closing the door. "Not in the mood today."

George's eyes crinkled curiously but he said nothing else and backed out of the garage.

The car ride was silent but her insides weren't. She kept telling herself to take deep breaths, wishing that the beating o of her heart would slow down. The pang of anxiety that set in Sunday morning never left. It lingered all day and finally exploded into late at night, where she found herself wide awake and staring at the ceiling.

Claire remembered the red light from her clock being after one in the morning when she dug up her walkman from the drawer. She hoped soothing music would help her sleep but it didn't. Nothing did and she eventually gave up.

"What is going _on_?" George angled his head over the dashboard, then to the sides. "We've barely moved the last ten minutes."

Claire rolled down her window, poking her head out of the side. She saw the bit of smoke hanging in the hair, and the people standing on the sidewalk, waiting.

"There's been an accident."

" _Great_." He slapped the steering wheel, making sure not to hit in the middle though everyone else around them honked. "This is the last thing I needed."

George might've been mad, but she wasn't. Claire hated his road rage but she was relieved for the delay. She wasn't ready to face her friends yet. Would she ever be?

"I have a meeting at eight fifteen!" George yelled into the car. "Come _on_!"

Claire sighed, ejecting the seatbelt. "Leave me here."

" _What_? Honey, no." He said sternly. "Shermer is a good four blocks away. I can—"

Her school bag was already on her shoulder, and books secure under her armpit. "And if you take me, you'll be late. You can make a right at this light and you'll make it. It's fine, daddy. I can walk. No big deal."

George searched her eyes, clenching his jaw. Then, he sighed. He knew she was right.

"All right, Claire. You win." She opened the door. "But, honey? Keep this between us, okay? Your mother would have my head if she ever found out."

Her brow rose. "You really think I'd tell her?"

"Just making sure." He smiled genuinely. "Have a good day."

She wanted to roll her eyes, ignore him, and slam the door like she had Saturday morning. It was all part of his plan to make her like him more than mom, to make him seem like the more loving parent. This weird competition between her parents would never end until she moved out.

But she didn't, her hand still on the threshold delicately. She didn't fully understand but she knew George did care. He wasn't anything like her mother. She may miss her brother but she was glad he wasn't around to see their deteriorating state.

Despite all that, Claire knew she had it the best out of her new friends.

"You too." Then she shut the door.

She passed by the accident on the way. Someone rear-ended the other. The gas that hung thickly in the air made her nose crinkle in disgust. She knew the smell wouldn't stay on her clothes but she couldn't wait to get to her locker and put on more perfume.

She tried walking as fast as she could but she was wearing pumps. Not the best idea ever but Claire didn't think she'd be walking so much.

The school's driveway appeared when she turned the corner. Yellow buses were starting to depart, and the students were bidding goodbye to their friends and heading inside. Her arms were starting to ache and her feet were beginning to annoy her.

Shuffling her books to her other arm, the time on her watch read five past seven. Ten minutes before the first warning bell. Claire didn't spot Jennifer or any of their girls around the area. She took it as a good sign.

Stubby's party was a hot topic. She heard the whispers as she passed a few groups still outside. She knew her friends were there; they always made appearances at any function held by their kind. Jennifer would especially want to know why Claire didn't show up, seeing as they were best friends. Would she ever be ready to tell them?

Something snapped on her way up the stairs. The sudden loss of balance almost made her topple over, but her hand tightly gripped the railing she'd been holding. She hoped—with every fiber in her being—that it wasn't what she thought.

Heart pounding a mile per minute, she looked down in horror. Her heel hung limply.

She bit her quivering lip. Of _course_ , of course her heel would break right in front of the whole school!

Claire quickly looked around. Nobody noticed. The groups remaining were too preoccupied with their chatter. Still, she couldn't breathe easy.

Leaning against the railing, Claire slipped off her pump. The thick heel clung to life by the black fabric, looking so miserable. Staring at it made everything worse. She slipped it back on. The familiar annoying sting plagued the bottom of her eyelids.

The thought of how she'd get inside terrified her. The humiliation! She'd rather roll over and die before going anywhere barefoot—much less school. Her locker was close by but that didn't change anything. It was so easy but so difficult.

She wanted to scream, wanted to stop her feet, wanted to call for her father. She didn't want to deal with this on top of everything else. She _knew_ should've turned around and called a cab to take her home instead of coming here.

"Well, well. Lookie here."

Claire didn't have to look up to know who it was. His perpetual tone of sarcasm and worn out boots with the same red bandana were a dead giveaway.

"The day's barely started and you're already crying." He stopped right in front of her. "Daddy forgot to pack your lunch, didn't he?"

She sniffed, not meeting his eyes. "Shut up, John."

"It's too early to be so hostile. Did you break a nail, then? Parents got into another endless monster deal?"

She scowled, wiping her cheeks with her fingers. "No. My heel snapped."

"How tragic! Lemme see it."

"Why?" She asked defensively, finally meeting his haughty gaze. "So you can make fun of me some more? Didn't you get enough of that Saturday? I thought we were past that. I really don't need this right now."

John blinked. "I was actually trying out this new thing where I attempt to not be a total asshole—" He slowly turned away. "—but it's pretty clear to me that you don't want that. So, I'll just be on my merry way. Forget anything ever happened—"

"Wait." She gripped the fabric of the same denim jacket he'd worn Saturday. He eyed her hand before his eyes found hers. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm in a bad mood. I didn't mean to take it out on you."

He tried not to smirk. "Have I ever mentioned I love apologies first thing in the morning?"

Claire rolled her eyes, letting him go. "Would you stop? I need your help."

He stuck his pinky into his ear like he was cleaning it. "I think I'm having a case of bein' hard of hearing. Mind repeating that?"

"In your dreams."

"Ah, see, my dreams are too naughty for such a pristine girl like you to know about." John held out his palm expectantly. "Now lemme see it."

Again, she took it off, handing it to him. John wasn't wearing gloves today. His dark clothes from Saturday were discarded for a white Led Zeppelin T-shirt and lighter colored jeans, though still ratty. His long hair was held back by those same plastic shades. Most importantly, John was wearing her diamond earring.

His observant eyes flittered over every inch of the shoe. He turned it over several times. With a finger, he put the heel back where it was supposed to be. It came undone when he let go.

"I can fix it." He announced.

Claire tried not to sound too hopeful but she knew she failed. "Really?"

"Shouldn't be that different from fixing my boots." John pointed at her with it. "Problem is: shop is my fifth period. You won't be getting it back 'til the end of the day."

Claire's shoulders slumped. "Great."

"Could be worse, Cherry," He said. "I could be letting ya walk in there barefoot if I weren't such a swell guy. Full offense to Carl, and especially Dick, but the school is atrocious. I'm sure prison is nicer."

"I can't believe this is happening to me. These were a birthday present from my mother—my own mother! They were my favorite!" Claire sighed deeply, willing herself to calm down. She was acting like such a spoiled baby though she was.

"Happens to the best of us." He shrugged. "No use crying over spilled milk."

Claire pursed her lips. "I think I still have a pair of flats in my locker. I just need to get there."

John stared at her quizzically. "Who keeps an extra pair of shoes in their locker?"

"Don't give me that shit!" She ripped the heel from his hand, jabbing it at him. "You have _converse_ in yours! And you _also_ keep weed in your locker! _And_ I keep an extra pair for cases like this!"

He actually looked a little scared, holding his palms up defensively. "Whoa, Claire, calm the fuck down. You don't gotta announce my shit to the whole world."

Claire swallowed, looking down. "Sorry."

"Should I bother asking if you got your period today, too?"

"You just did. But, no, I checked this morning. I get it next week."

"God, I'd truly hate to see that."

She folded her arms across her chest with a huff. "Get used to it. This is one of the many off mornings I have."

John licked the inside of his mouth, contemplating. Then, he turned and kneeled. Claire looked on, completely confused.

"Hop on."

She stared at his awaiting back and palms. "What?"

He cocked his head to the side. "You need to get inside, yeah? I'll carry you to your locker. I promise to not let my hands wander—unless you want them to."

People were paying attention, mixed puzzlement to downright shock. Claire swallowed. "John, this is _so_ embarrassing. I can't let you do this."

"You got any other bright ideas, sweets?"

"Well, you could just walk to my locker and bring them here."

"I'd be late to homeroom—not that I give a shit. Aside from that, your idea's pretty boring."

Claire sighed exasperatedly. Would it always be like this between them?

"You know, I could just leave your ass here and let you deal with it," John said when Claire offered nothing else. "But here I am, trying to do the right thing. Why're you being so difficult?"

"Okay, okay! _Fine_. We'll do this your way."

Claire shoved her books as far as they could go in her bag. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she maneuvered maneuvered her legs into his arms. His palms were warm as John secured her in place.

"Do me a solid and put my shades in my pocket."

Claire complied, entranced by the way the wisps of his hair fell when she took them off. Most girls probably hated his hair but not her. It was dark and wild, just like him. She placed the sunglasses in his breast pocket, then wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Where's your locker?"

"By Mr. Roger's class."

"Not the worst distance ever… Yo, small fry!" The kid froze in place, lips fumbling for the right words. "Open the door. Queenie needs to get inside."

Her cheeks reddened in embarrassment, hiding her vision on his shoulder.

"Uhm. Sorry, but I—"

"It wasn't a request. Open the fucking door."

She heard the loud creek of the door and felt them move. "Thanks, dork!"

The air immediately felt heavy and a little bit warm, much warmer than outside. Claire looked back at the petrified freshman, mouthing a _thank you_.

John's strides were so confident. How could he be so bold when he had so much to lose, just like her? His rebellious, dont-give-a-fuck reputation was probably tarnished thanks to this.

But she didn't want to think about reputations right now. Not when they were still on speaking terms and his body was so warm.

"Hey, John? What happened to 'not being a total asshole'?"

"It's a limited edition offer, available only to you and three other people." He responded immediately.

"Even Andy is included?"

"… I said three? I mean two. Ya know, maybe it's even just you."

Claire scoffed although it came out as a giggle. He really was funny under all the insults. "You're something else but also a life saver."

"Hm. I've been called lots of things, but that's— _Hey, dickwad! Watch where you're going! I'm walking here_!"

"Why don't you—oh, fuck, Bender! I'm so sorry, dude!"

She could hear the whispers. They were practically by her ear with how congested the hallways were at this time. Some didn't even bother to hide their shock. Claire didn't dare look.

"Are people staring?" She asked quietly though she didn't think he'd hear over the chatter.

"Oh, yeah." He drawled. Of course he was living for it. John reveled in anything remotely chaotic, even if he was the only one causing all of it. "You should totally see this shit. You weren't kidding. Everyone really does love you."

Claire sighed against his jacket. "Are you gonna go to class today?"

"Probably. Anything beats seein' Vernon. Besides, I get my best sleep in most of 'em."

"Do we have any classes together?" She felt bad for asking. John wasn't the easiest person to miss. "I don't remember…"

"Nah. I do have quite a few with our dear ole friend Andrew."

Claire scoffed. "Be nice to him. Please. He can't miss another meet."

"... You think I'd land him in some kind of trouble that'd get him another detention? ... Okay, fine. I would do that, but still! Why don't you tell that shit to him? It's not _me_ that starts everything, Claire! It's _him_!"

Claire giggled against his shoulder. "Have you seen him today? Or anyone else?"

"I was running late. Then I ran into you."

"Me too." She said warmly. "There was an accident on the way. My father was complaining about how he'd be late to work so I offered to walk."

"... He actually let you?"

"Oh, shut up." She picking up her head just slightly so her nose was resting on his shoulder blade. The faint scent of his musk cologne nearly made her sigh. "I just felt bad that he'd be late 'cause of me. I… I actually didn't wanna come today."

"Same here." John agreed reluctantly. "I don't like Monday's."

"Nobody does, not even Allison."

"Speakin' of that little nymphomaniac," He said with the utmost sarcasm only he could manage. "There she goes."

Andrew and Allison, hand in hand, strolled down the intersecting hallway. The same blue sweater he'd given her Saturday was draped over her shoulders like some kind of cape, clashing with the pink shirt. Her hair was kept out of her face by the same white headband. Claire couldn't tell if she was wearing makeup but that didn't matter.

Andrew looked happy, laughing at something she'd told him. Only Allison could do that. Only she could make him so completely lost in her presence. Neither of them cared about the confused looks of the student body.

They were total opposites but something about them meshed together perfectly. Nobody had to understand.

"I'm gonna cock block 'em."

"What? _No_! Leave them alone."

"You're no fun, Claire."

Claire tugged on his soft hair, hoping it would annoy him the same way he got under her skin. "You're the one that's no fun. Stuff like that's cute."

"Careful, sweets. I like my hair being pulled."

She pulled her lips into a tight line and stopped. He was just a box of never ending surprises. The warning bell rang.

John groaned, quickening his pace. "Don't expect that kinda lovey-dovey shit from me, by the way. I know I say a lot, but I mean it when I say: that's not happening. _Ever_."

Claire scoffed. " _Please_. Expecting that from you is like waiting for pigs to fly."

"… I'm hurt."

Claire rolled her eyes at his sarcasm. "You know it's true. You just said it, too."

"You know I can be a nice guy when I wanna be," He pointed out and he didn't have to list examples to know what John was directly referencing. "And aren't I bein' one right now?"

She squealed loudly when John hoisted her up higher. Choosing to wear leggings was a blessing in disguise. She didn't have to see but she knew he was grinning at her discomfort. 

"Sure," She cleared her throat. "When you're not busy being an asshole."

"I only react to what's said to me—or lack thereof."

Claire sighed. "I said I was sorry about earlier, didn't I?"

He flicked his hair in her face purposefully. "Doesn't mean I still can't give ya shit for it."

Her nose crinkled. "You're such a baby."

"Second best only to you, sweets." He replied cheekily.

Neither Jennifer nor their girls were at their lockers but it didn't matter. They'd hear about this eventually. They knew everyone. Claire needed to be ready for whatever came her way, there was no turning back.

John let her down carefully. It made her just a little bit giddy knowing that his gentleness would only be for her. She wondered what other secrets she'd uncover in whatever time they spent together. She wanted to be the first to know them all.

Unknowingly, John leaned sideways against Jennifer's locker. "So where's the rest of the bee hive?"

She handed him her bag. He eyed it warily and took it reluctantly.

She started rolling in her combination. "You mean my friends?"

He plucked the jutting composition book from her bag. "Them."

"Probably already in Home Ec. We don’t really wait around for each other after the bell." The door flung open. "I'll introduce you to them later, if you want. Lunch, maybe?"

John's look of shock quickly faded as it came. "Your call."

She threw the pump with the intact heel inside, changing into her flats. "We've already come this far, might as well keep going."

She caught his eye as he looked back down at her pages full of notes. "Yeah, well, I don't think they'll like me very much."

"I won't hide you."

A minuscule smile crossed his lips. "I know."

She reached for her spiral notebook, flipping it open to a blank page. "So where's your first class?"

John jerked his chin in the opposite direction of where she was heading. "Chemistry. If I recall, it's just one of the many Sporto and I got together. Ya know, it'll be like a date—if he lets me sit next to him."

Claire bit her lip to keep from laughing. "Sounds nice, but please? Keep it down. I mean it."

"Sorry, Cherry." John didn't look the least bit remorseful. "No promises."

She scribbled on the page then ripped it out, folding it in half neatly. "Can you do me one more favor?"

"I can do you _lots_ of favors, all out of the kindness of my heart. And you won't have to repay me at all. Just say when."

"You're disgusting." She held out the ripped page. "Give this to Brian if you see him before I do."

He took it from her, unfolding it. His brows furrowed. "... This your number?"

Claire checked herself in the mirror, fluffing her hair though nothing had changed about it. She checked her foundation, then grabbed the spare body spray she kept.

"Yeah."

"Why's the dweeb getting your credentials before me?"

" _Jealous_?"

" _No._ " He replied stubbornly.

Claire shut her locker, clipping the lock in place. He handed back her bag. "It's just in case he ever goes through _that_ again and needs someone to talk to."

John gave a hum, standing straight and folding it back the way she had it before placing it in the pocket of his jeans.

"Besides..." She paused, feeling every bit nervous. Guys always asked her out, not the other way around. "I was gonna give you my address... If you wanna come over some time this week, that is..."

His brows rose. "So the plan is on?"

"No, I'm not gonna use you like that."

A look of surprised crossed him. It was what they'd agreed on. It'd be a brief fling of passion that would leave a string of heartbreak for her parents and friends. But she'd thought it over on Sunday and realized she didn't want that. They wouldn't ever be happy that way. It wasn't fair to them, or anyone.

"So what, then? I'm meeting the parents?"

She shook her head. "Not yet. I'm not sure when my mother will be home and my father always works late. I do know that neither of them will be home this weekend. You can stop by after detention... And stay the night?"

"That's a pretty big deal."

"Shut up."

John grinned wickedly. "C'mon, Cherry. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about all the things we could do in a big, empty house."

"We're not doing anything."

John deflated. "... _Nothing_? Like... Like nothing-at-all kinda _nothing_?"

"Yes. Nothing." Claire repeated, repressing a wicked smile of her own. "We'll go out, or watch movies, or _something_ that doesn’t involve that _._ "

"... You're the _worst_ kind of tease, Claire."

"I'm _not_ a tease!"

His hand reached out, fixing some of her hair out of her face. "You know I don't mind."

With a huff, she realized John wouldn't do it. She'd have to, she'd always have to be the one to initiate. He may not be as intimidating as everyone believed but he was still well guarded.

Without the added support, she felt so much shorter than him now. That wasn't going to stop her. She clutched his jacket between her fingers, standing on the balls of her feet and kissed him.

It wasn't anything like their session in the closet, and it _definitely_ wasn't sweet like their kiss after detention, but it was still nice. She liked kissing him. John knew what to do and how to do it that made her body feel warm and tingly. He wasn't like all these other boys that just stuck their tongue in her mouth and called it a kiss—though, Claire didn't think she would've minded. They'd already done that and it wasn't as horrible as she'd thought.

John's hand snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Claire giggled, pushing on his chest as a signal.

"John, I have to go."

His head moved towards her neck, his hot breath on her neck. "You should cut class. We’ll go somewhere."

"No, stop." She moved away with a smile. "I really have to go. I have a French exam for second period and I can't miss it."

John finally pulled away. "Fine."

"Weren't you gonna go to class?"

"Still debating."

Claire still wanted nothing more than to go back home. It was safe in her house, under her covers. Biting her lip, her eyes glanced over the people still in the hallways. Some of them had seen. And she did care, though only a little; not as much as she thought she would've.

Things had to change. Claire was tired; tired of her parents, tired of following her friends, tired of this social structure she'd fallen into that dictated who she could and couldn't associate with. She knew as long as John was here with her, she could do it. And if Andrew and Allison were still together, they could do it. And if Brian was there for all of them, they'd be unstoppable.

"Will I see you later?"

John held up her broken pump in his index finger. "For sure."


End file.
